When We Were Girl Scouts

When we were Girl Scouts,
our tired feet pounding the trails
and wonder swirling about us,

we climbed the lookout tower
to see the place where fires
and Smokey the Bear
knew better.

The ladder
was so tall
the girl
with braids
ahead of me froze.

Her fear held me back.

I wanted to race around her to the platform
and gaze out at the beauty above the trees;
gasp at the way clouds
skimmed the tops
of all the burning
torches of pine.

Instead,
I perfected my calmest voice
and talked my way into reason.

The view
was amazing
and I learned the power
of the sound of my voice
over  Baby Jesus prayers
and the threat
of death by flames. 

Rushing Waters

This land of foreign joy
speaks to me in a tongue
I do not recognize

My memory is gone
over some distant hill
and vanishes
without even a hint
of where understanding
might come.

Trust
that the leather
that has formed
to protect your hands
will heal
and the toughness
that has protected
will eventually
wear away.

Even granite
is worn smooth
by rushing waters.

Heaven

When life as we know it
is gone

I will not rush to the other side,
gasp at the promised white light

demand miracles of heaven.

Instead, I will walk slowly
as a monk into the dream,

like meditation
waiting to erase
the mind.

More

Walk near a nearly dry brook on these fall days,
when the sky has fallen from burning
into embers on the thirsty ground,
and you will hear
the wings of geese--

flown so many miles until dusk
overtakes them.

This husky honking
is Nature calling out
with the desire for more.

More today than yesterday
and always less than each moment
that follows in the shadow
of too much joy.

Given for No One

In a sanctuary of solitude
put fire to the votive
and kneel at the feet
of your grief.

The world you have known
depends on your tears
and unending sorrow
like the earth looks to the horizon
for new light.

Listen for the sigh
that will escape your lungs
at the end of a joyful day.

Here you will celebrate
what is rightfully yours
with a smile
given for no one
but the mirror.

Daring to Blossom

Shield yourself from the gaze
of the wickedness that has come to rest
within yourself;

that place of punishment
no one else can see
but you
standing
in your own corner
of bad.

Find the force
to walk past the statues
other souls have become
in their day in
and day out worlds,

frozen in their sadness,
still as stone
in lives that make no sense,
unable to move from a posture
of anger or fear.

On the edge of this final resting place
sit quietly and examine
a single flower
coming up through the cracks

daring to blossom
in the harsh and rocky
daylight,
in the quiet
that has become a song
waiting for you to stand up
and dance.

The Scent of Sleep

The scent of sleep
is forbidden tonight

as the soft rain
tempts Love
to enter this chamber

only to crawl

cold and wet
from the dark
into these fall sheets--

curl warm and needy
into the backs of knees,


belly heat against this strong back


arms and hands tucked just so.

Breathe shallow
and know how good it is
to be awake.